


Untitled Arya/Gendry

by hesperia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperia/pseuds/hesperia





	Untitled Arya/Gendry

The tiny chambers that Arya has been given are stuffy and warm, and she had thrown open the window earlier but it did little to cool the room down. She feels odd to be wearing a shift again, so used to the breeches and tunics that she'd taken to wearing since she left King's Landing, but it's easier with a shift, to pull it up by her waist, to slip her hand between her legs. 

At first she'd just cupped her hand over it, and that had been enough to chase away the odd, queer ache in her mound. It didn't happen often, but it was always when Gendry was around, stupid Gendry and his stupid perfect body, and his stupid perfect face. It half made her hate him, though she knew it was her body that betrayed her and not Gendry. 

After Harrenhal simple pressure hadn't been enough, and Arya had slipped a finger between the lips of her sex to find herself so wet she thought she'd soiled herself, except it was soft and slippery, and the ache went away if she rubbed herself against the heel of her palm. 

But tonight the pressure and the ache are so much that no amount of rubbing will make them go away. Arya groans, her fingers sliding over the slick flesh, rubbing over the small nub at the top of her mound, the one that takes the pressure away but only for a few blissfull minutes before it returns, stronger than before. She's on her stomach, her arm pressed against the bed, and she's just slid two fingers into her cunt for the first time when she hears the rattle of the doorknob. 

With her free hand she scrambles to pull the sheet up over her hips, covering her bare bottom and legs, just in time before the door opens. She knows its him even though she can't see his face, the light from the hall creating a sillohette in her doorway, she knows the shape of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest, and his height, his head almost hitting the jamb. 

Gendry closes the door, and the room is plunged back into darkness, and Arya's heart is beating so fast in her chest she doesn't quite know what to do except lay perfectly still. He has his own chambers, the ones he was sharing with Hot Pie, and she can smell the wine and she wonders if he's lost or confused, but he's toeing off his boots and he sits down hard in the chair next to the bed. 

It's dark in the room but the window lets in enough light that she can see sitting in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his head resting in hands. She wants to tell him to go, back to his chambers with Hot Pie or to the sweet faced dark haired whore who'd been flirting with him all night.

But her cunt clenches around her fingers as she wiggles them inside herself, curling them up and making her want to cry out or groan or sigh but all she can do is listen to Gendry's ragged breathing and press her face harder into her pillow as she peaks.


End file.
